55 things he loves about her
by MusicalRenegade16
Summary: 55 things the Doctor loves about River.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I know I should be working on my challenge series, but while I was working on the next in the list, I got this in my head, and I couldn't get it out, so enjoy. There will be 55 total things, but maybe not chapters.**

**I OWN NOTHING. NOT DOCTOR WHO, NOT ANYTHING.**

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**She plays with her jewelry:**

It's the way she twists the rings around on her fingers and swaps them around, or fiddles with the bracelets she so rarely wears because they get in the way. She'll sit at the desk to grade papers, or curl up with a book, or even just sitting there talking, and her fingers will be twirling her rings, sliding and flicking her bracelets, or winding in the chain of her necklace, sliding the charm around, until it eventually finds it's way up to tap against her lip. Finally it'll end up in her mouth, chain hanging, fingers still holding it until she needs her hand, then it starts all over again, and he could watch her for hours. She doesn't realize what she's doing half the time, and when she looks up to find him watching her, entranced, she'll give him an odd, questioning look. So he'll smile at her, and fiddle with something until she's absorbed enough that it starts again.

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**AN: Hope you don't hate it. I love you all! And as always: Talk to me, critique me, ask me questions, I shall always reply, when I can. -RebelUp. -your friendly neighborhood renegade.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: I know I should be working on my challenge series, but while I was working on the next in the list, I got this in my head, and I couldn't get it out, so enjoy. There will be 55 total things, but maybe not chapters.**

**I OWN NOTHING. NOT DOCTOR WHO, NOT ANYTHING.**

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**She's always got a song in her head:**

_Birds do it,_

It took him a while to realize it, but she literally always had a song in her mind.

_Bees do it,_

Sometimes she would just hum quietly, so quietly she almost wasn't. He usually didn't notice, but when they stop running, or she's curled into his side at night, he does.

_Let's do it._

Other times, she would sing under her breath. If he was silent enough, he would hear. Like he always heard her.

_Let's fall in love._

And others, it was just a comforting thing in the back of their minds. He could hear it filter through hers, and she's so used to it, she doesn't even notice the music anymore. But he does. He needs to hear it. It soothes him when he wakes up in the middle of the night from a nightmare with her wrapped tightly in his arms, sleepily playing a song in her head just for him. Or when he sees her in that _c__ell,_ and he knows that that's his fault, but then she'll pull him close, lay her head son his shoulder and then he'll her it. She'll hum a soothing lullaby, or sing him a love song, like the ones they'll hear at the clubs when he takes her out.

_Let's do it. Let's fall in love._

And then he knows, she's here, and it'll be alright.

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**AN: Hope you don't hate it. I love you all! And as always: Talk to me, critique me, ask me questions, I shall always reply, when I can. -RebelUp. -your friendly neighborhood renegade.**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: I know I should be working on my challenge series, but while I was working on the next in the list, I got this in my head, and I couldn't get it out, so enjoy. There will be 55 total things, but maybe not chapters.**

**I OWN NOTHING. NOT DOCTOR WHO, NOT ANYTHING.**

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**She's always wearing his clothes:**

It drove him insane sometimes. Others, he found it adorable, sexy, sweet, etc. He would go looking for a t-shirt to wear under his shirt, and it would be nowhere. Then, when he'd given up, he'd find it months later, in her bed at Stormcage, or tucked between the mattress and headboard of the bed they shared, where it'd probably fallen from her habit of tucking them under the pillows. Then he'd remember that she'd worn it to bed.

Or he'd wake up, and his button down wouldn't be on the floor, or chair, or even anywhere near. If she was still there, he'd see her pulling it on, if she wasn't he'd walkout in hastily pulled on pajama pants to see her at the table in his shirt.

Sometimes, she'd turn up in a pair of the jeans he kept around for casual days with her, or she'd be wearing one of his shirts as a dress, belted over leggings and guns. Still others she'd wear his boxers and muscle shirt to bed. Sometimes she'd even steal something of a previous regeneration from their personal wardrobe.

There was just something _right_ about River in his clothes. Seeing the way they dwarfed her, and hung on her frame, doing the impossible to make her almost delicate, woke something raw, and primitive in his chest that purred whenever he caught that sight. Because it was an obvious claim: _his _wife, in _his_ clothes. Though if she ever caught wind of thoughts like those, she'd probably slap them out of his head. But it'd be worth it if she was wearing his clothes when she did it.

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**AN: Hope you don't hate it. I love you all! And as always: Talk to me, critique me, ask me questions, I shall always reply, when I can. -RebelUp. -your friendly neighborhood renegade.**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: I know I should be working on my challenge series, but while I was working on the next in the list, I got this in my head, and I couldn't get it out, so enjoy. There will be 55 total things, but maybe not chapters.**

**I OWN NOTHING. NOT DOCTOR WHO, NOT ANYTHING.**

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**Her Hair:**

She _hated _it. He loved it. Loved how it went everywhere in the morning, how it frizzed when she used the vortex manipulator. He adored how it limited her headwear to almost nothing (Though in retrospect, that _could_ be why she was always killing his hats. They were just so cool! Why else would she kill them?!)and how it fanned across his chest when she lay on his chest at night. He loved her hair, because it was so_ River._

She would sit on the bed after a shower, or while getting ready, with a comb and brush in either hand, attacking the curls, swearing that she was going to cut it short and straighten it permanently.

"But River," he'd protest frantically, "You can't!"

"And why not?" She'd demand irritatedly. So he'd grin and show her exactly why not.

"Because," he'd whisper, sweeping her hair back from her face. "Then I couldn't do this." He'd tangle his hands easily in the riotous mass and use it to gently tug her mouth to his. And there they'd stay instead of flailing about like they used to. Then he slide them down to her hips and back up again.

"I hate it when you do that," she whisper against his lips. "It makes me feel like agreeing to anything." Then he'd grin and tug the brush and comb from her hands. He'd settle behind her and start gently combing out each and every snarl before stroking the brush through it. Then he'd hug her from behind and bury his face in her hair, inhaling the scent of Time, of black raspberries, of vanilla, of cinnamon, the faint whiff of dirt, sweat, gunpowder, and laser-blasts.

What he loved most of all, was that her hair smelled like River. A unique scent he couldn't find anywhere else, and that wasn't that strong, that purely concentrated, even on her and her things except in her curls.

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**AN: Hope you don't hate it. I love you all! And as always: Talk to me, critique me, ask me questions, I shall always reply, when I can. -RebelUp. -your friendly neighborhood renegade.**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: I know I should be working on my challenge series, but while I was working on the next in the list, I got this in my head, and I couldn't get it out, so enjoy. There will be 55 total things, but maybe not chapters.**

**I OWN NOTHING. NOT DOCTOR WHO, NOT ANYTHING.**

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**Dancing:**

She'll sway along to the music in her head, she'll glide around the kitchen softly, she'll waltz around the console. When she calls him up on the psychic paper, half the time he ends up outside a club, or ball, or coronation, even a handful of weddings. She'd be waiting outside the doors, eyes glittering, with a big smile, and she'd grab his hand and drag him to the wardrobe.

Once they were dressed to her satisfaction, he'd offer his arm, she'd lace hers through it, and they'd step out. And she'd pull him close and they'd dance the night away. She fit perfectly in his arms and could move so in sync with him, sometimes he thought he was dreaming. Amy likened his dancing to a drunk giraffe, but with River, with River he was graceful. With River he could dance. With River, he had the best moves in the universe. He'd tango, waltz, paso doble, anything. As long as she was his dance partner.

Once, they'd gone to an intergalactic peace ball. A temporary alliance between most species in the universe. They'd danced the night away, and the next day they'd come across a paper. The front page was a shot of them. He had his arms around her, and he was resting his cheek on her head. She had her arms around his neck, her head burrowed into his chest. They looked so at peace, if it was only for a moment. The headline was: **I'd Dance All Night With** You. He smiled, and secretly saved the entire article, headline and photo included.

Her love of dancing was always one of his favorite things about her.

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**AN: Hope you don't hate it. I love you all! And as always: Talk to me, critique me, ask me questions, I shall always reply, when I can. -RebelUp. -your friendly neighborhood renegade.**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: I know I should be working on my challenge series, but while I was working on the next in the list, I got this in my head, and I couldn't get it out, so enjoy. There will be 55 total things, but maybe not chapters.**

**I OWN NOTHING. NOT DOCTOR WHO, NOT ANYTHING.**

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**Style:**

She always looked her best, even in jeans. She knew how to work her wardrobe, and her fashion sense was phenomenal. He'd let her choose his clothes every now and then, because it made her happy, and he always looked great then. But her style wasn't limited to her clothes. No, she oozed style when she played with her guns, or she played in the dirt, or when she flirted with him.

There was a certain style to her gun-slinging: a bold, fearless manner, yet protective of those she was loyal to those she loved, trusting it was right when she drew, and a cold, decisive one when she fired. That style defined her. It permeated everything she did, worked it's way into every corner of her being, because it was her. That style was simply how she did things: capable of being so cold, calculated, detached, and decisive, and far too trusting, too loyal, too loving, too protective, too fearless, too bold, for her own good.

But that was her. It was who she was. And he loved her for it.

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**AN: Hope you don't hate it. I love you all! And as always: Talk to me, critique me, ask me questions, I shall always reply, when I can. -RebelUp. -your friendly neighborhood renegade.**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: I know I should be working on my challenge series, but while I was working on the next in the list, I got this in my head, and I couldn't get it out, so enjoy. There will be 55 total things, but maybe not chapters.**

**I OWN NOTHING. NOT DOCTOR WHO, NOT ANYTHING.**

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**Her sleep** **habits:**

The first night she stayed over, he'd only talked her into it because she had a couple cracked ribs, and he had a couple nasty cuts. She said he'd need looking after. So he got her to sleep and he was right surprised when, as soon as he lay down, she rolled over and nestled into his side. He quickly wrapped his arms around her and she snuggled in. He drifted off that way and didn't wake for a while.

He woke to a sudden chill and realized the blankets were gone. He sat up groggily, only to stop when he heard a sleepy grumble and remembered River. He looked down to see her cocooned in the blankets. He tugged one gently and she whined and clung to it. He sighed. She was obviously warm, comfy, and in no mood to share. It was downright adorable. But he was cold. He considered it a minute before he came up with a solution.

He shifted River over so she was curled up in his arms tightly. After that she was quick to kick off the blankets and attempt to wriggle away. He held her tighter and rolled over so she was sprawled on his chest. She immediately went still and he hauled the blankets back up, burrowed his face in her curls, and fell fast asleep.

The next time he woke up to a mad tangle of blankets wrapped around them both.

Every night after that he learned something new about her: she was restless when one of them was hurt, but otherwise she slept like the dead. She was usually a light sleeper. She didn't go to bed without a cup of very sweet, very hot tea most nights. she liked to cuddle and steal blankets. She would hold entire conversations while fast asleep. And he'd never tell her any of it. And every night he fell farther in love with her.

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**AN: Hope you don't hate it. I love you all! And as always: Talk to me, critique me, ask me questions, I shall always reply, when I can. -RebelUp. -your friendly neighborhood renegade.**


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: I know I should be working on my challenge series, but while I was working on the next in the list, I got this in my head, and I couldn't get it out, so enjoy. There will be 55 total things, but maybe not chapters.**

**I OWN NOTHING. NOT DOCTOR WHO, NOT ANYTHING.**

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**Sleeping at the desk:**

He learned pretty quick that the old girl would take the brakes off if she wanted. And she wouldn't do it unless there was a chance of waking River. I.e., if River was anywhere near a desk. She had an adorable habit of falling asleep at her desk after working for several hours straight. The first time he'd showed up in her office, he was excited about taking her to Metalurica 4, and he was bouncy and loud, only to stop short at the sight of his not-yet-in-her-time-stream wife, lying with her cheek resting on a curled arm, the other flung out, a pen hanging limp in her fingers, hair splayed out all around her, sound asleep.

He tiptoed over to her, and laid a hand on her shoulder before hesitating. She looked so peaceful, no nightmares plaguing her dreams at the moment, he was loathe to wake her. Instead he slid his hand to her back, slid the other under her knees and easily scooped her up, carrying her to their bed, pillowing his head on her stomach and cuddling her close.

Another time, he was just tucking her under the afghan on the cozy couch in her office when a student came barging in, talking at an entirely unacceptable level. He could wake her! So he grabbed the boy, shoved him back into the classroom, and followed. Five minutes later, he went back to find his wife sleepily rubbing her eyes and yawning.

A lot of the time he'd o into her office on the old girl, only to find her sound asleep at the desk once more.

More often than not, if she was asleep at her desk, there was ink on her cheek, or a pen imprint somewhere. Once, she managed to upset a bottle of white out, and only get it on her hair and arm.

And each time, it never failed to make his hearts melt a little more.

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**AN: Hope you don't hate it. I love you all! And as always: Talk to me, critique me, ask me questions, I shall always reply, when I can. -RebelUp. -your friendly neighborhood renegade.**


End file.
